


Judgment Day

by Dean_can_ride_my_impala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, I don't know how to tag this, I'm Sorry, M/M, Mild slash, Out of Character, set sometime during season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 09:18:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dean_can_ride_my_impala/pseuds/Dean_can_ride_my_impala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this while heavily sleep-deprived. I'm sorry</p>
            </blockquote>





	Judgment Day

Annie didn’t care much about history. It didn’t make sense to her how something that had happened hundreds of years ago could be interesting. But she had to admit, listening to some guy drone on and on about a dead guy was definitely a small price to pay for coming on this field trip. Not only had she gotten in a plane, but the monuments were pretty cool, too.

“The Washington Memorial was built to honor George Washington, the first president of the United States,” said the tour guy. The tour consisted mainly of school kids—Annie, her classmates, and another local school—a couple of families in a boring family trip, and the odd loner. “It weighs 90,850 tons and its over 555 ft. tall. In fact, it was the tallest building in the world until the Eiffel Tower was built. As you can see, the monument is two-colored. That’s because construction had to stop during the Civil War. It was officially opened to the public in October 9, 1888.”

“It looks like a giant penis,” some kid snickered and the tour guide glared at them until the teacher chided him quietly.

“We’re going to cross 17th street and get a look at the WWII Memorial,” the tour guide continued, already walking towards the large crowd. “Looking at the Washington Memorial through the Reflecting Pool is just beautiful.”

Annie followed, intrigued. Her brothers had told her that people drowned all the time inside the pool and that the FBI was stationed around it to keep people off. She had ignored them all summer, though she was relieved when she didn’t see any Feds near the pool. In fact, there were a bunch of people gathered around it, a few with picnics, and even a couple of kids jumping in and out of the pool. Even as she watched, a Park Ranger came over to shout at them to get out.

“The pool isn’t very deep,” the tour guide said. “About two feet deep. People fall in it all the time. One guy even drove his tractor in there to protest once.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asked skeptically. “Cause it looks like it’s about an inch deep.”

“I’ve been studying about famous landmarks all my life,” the tour guide snapped, irritation evident in his voice.

“Well, then how do you explain that?” Eddie said smugly, pointing his pudgy fingers.

Annie turned and felt her jaw drop. There was a man walking on water.

Honest to God walking on water. He was tall, about six feet, with a mop of dark hair. He was dressed in a wrinkled suit underneath a trench coat, and he looked like an accountant, but he wasn’t carrying a case. People began to shout and yell, but the man continued walking on, his eyes on the Lincoln Memorial, his pace relaxed.

“Sir! You can’t be in there!” the Park Ranger shouted, wading inside the pool.

The man ignored him. He was almost in the middle of the pool now, and Annie could see now that the man was very handsome…hot, her older sister would say, a total babe.

“Sir, please stop!” the officer yelled, and the man stopped. “What are you doing?” he gasped, and his eyes were on the man’s feet, which were planted firmly on the water.

“Abraham Lincoln was a brave man,” the man spoke in a deep voice. Annie shivered, feeling as if the voice was pressing her down, the authority in it clear. “He deserves his Heaven. He was judged justly.”

“Who are you?” the officer mumbled.

The man turned to look at him and cocked his head, confused. “I am God.” Annie froze on the spot. She wasn’t very old—only nine—but she was old enough to understand the meaning of those words. God? _God?_

“What—I—you _can’t_ be,” the officer whispered.

“I am God,” the man repeated and his voice carried. “And this is Judgment Day.”

 

 

“This is a bad idea, Dean,” Sam said for the hundredth time. “We should be on the down low. We aren’t the FBI’s most favorite people.”

“Shut up Sam,” Dean muttered, trying to fight his way through the crowd. The stupid people had gathered around the Lincoln Memorial like moths to a light, knowing full well that a possessed Angel claiming to be God was killing people by the dozen in there. Well, they didn’t know his Angel status, but still.

The building had been quickly surrounded by CIA, FBI, NSA, and a bunch of other agencies Dean had never heard of when Cas had killed all of the people standing within a ten-mile radius of the Reflecting Pool. He had called it a ‘Cleansing’, the United States called it a terrorist threat.

“Dean, Dean—for fuck’s sake, Dean, stop!” Sam shouted, but Dean ignored him and pushed through the roped off section. Two agents quickly ran his way, ready to kick him out, but Dean raised his arms.

“Hey, my name is Dean Winchester, and I’m in the FBI’s ten most wanted list,” Dean quickly said. The men stopped, clearly confused.

“I know you’re going to want to arrest me, but just hear me out,” Dean said. He took his gun out and the men instantly raised theirs. “Or I’ll start shooting innocents. You really want to create a scene when God is over there, ready to judge us?”

Both men shuddered visibly, clearly shaken by the mention of God—I mean, who wouldn’t—and one finally spoke. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk to the man in charge,” Dean said quickly. “I want to be Judged.”

 

Dean was quickly ushered through, handed from agent to agent. Some of them were dressed in casual clothes, others were wearing their army uniforms, and even some were in fancy suits. They had all clearly been pulled out of their routines. Dean was unceremoniously shoved inside a van and he was able to hear the faintest _the president is inside the bunker_ before group quickly quieted down.

“Was is the meaning of this?” an older man with a highly decorated uniform demanded, eyes falling on Dean.

“This is Dean Winchester. He’s in our Ten Most Wanted,” the man holding him said. “He offered to be Judged.”

“Take him out of my sight. God will kill him in a second,” the man dismissed.

“He’s not God,” Dean said quickly, and the man froze.

“What?”’

“He’s not God,” Dean repeated. “His name is Castiel. He’s an Angel of the Lord. Pretty powerful, but not God.”

“How do you know?” a pretty woman asked from behind the old man.

“Because I was there when he swallowed all those souls,” Dean answered, his throat fighting to close down. Years of hiding the truth and now he was spilling the beans to _Feds_.

“You were where? What souls?” another man quickly asked.

“The souls from Purgatory,” Dean quickly replied. “Look, I would love nothing else but to tell you all about it over pie and beer, but this isn’t the time. Castiel won’t be able to hold on to those souls for much longer, and trust me, you don’t want all of those souls roaming the earth.”

“And what exactly are you proposing?”

“Let me go in. I will kill him,” Dean answered, not looking anyone in the eye.

“Do you really think you can?” the old man sneered.

Dean glared at him. “If I fail, I die. Do you really want to send one of your men in there instead of me?”

“He’s an asset,” the woman quickly said. “This is _God_ we’re trying to fight, men. Even if it’s just an Angel, I’m not willing to sin my Heaven away.”

Dean rolled his eyes. Of course. Send the killer in, he doesn’t deserve Heaven. The words seemed to do the trick though, and the old man nodded.

“Okay. Don’t try and betray us, boy. God—that _Angel_ —has been broadcasting his Judgment loudly. There are some _sick_ people out here. Most of them do deserve Hell, but others…”

Dean nodded. He understood. He had been watching the news.

“Just… if you see a really tall man with long hair trying to break through, stop him,” Dean said. “And if I kill him and die myself, I want all charges to be removed from my brother’s file.”

“Well, seeing as though both of you are supposed to be dead already, that won’t be too hard,” the woman said dryly. “Well, go on.”

Dean was escorted by two agents again. He noticed, though, that this time, the way was opened to them, much like one would do to a dead man walking. They led him to the edge of the memorial, where a line of soldiers had taken root, guns ready. Dean looked ahead and saw Cas standing on the steps, eyes on the crowd. His head was cocked to the side, confused, and Dean felt a pang of longing in his chest.

He walked forward. He could feel a thousand eyes on him, human and lenses, but he ignored them. It wasn’t until he was a couple of feet away that those eyes turned to him.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said and his voice carried. Damn, everyone would hear this. “I have not called you.”

“No, but I’m here to be Judged,” Dean answered, his voice firm. He winced as he heard his voice echoed back to him. It sounded a bit scared, not as confident or deep as he wanted it. “Isn’t that what you’re doing, Cas? Judging?”

“I am God. It is my right,” Cas replied.

“Bullshit,” Dean snapped. “You’re not God, Cas. You’re a fucking mutant Angel.” He heard people gasp and Cas’ eyes narrowed.

“I will not send you to Hell, Dean, no matter how much you beg. Your soul is bright. Your soul belongs in Heaven…but Sam’s…”

“Touch my brother and I will fucking kill you, Cas,” Dean growled.

“Will you? Boy?” Cas said with humor. “You’re an ant. Better than most, but still an ant.”

“And ant with a bright soul,” Dean said, and Cas nodded. “So I’m not going to be Judged? Even though I lie? I cheat? I steal? I kill?”

“Those sins were forgiven the first time you went to hell,” Castiel replied.

“Then how about you, Cas?” Dean growled. “Why don’t we talk about your sins?”

“I am God. I don’t have any—.”

“You disobeyed God,” Dean interrupted. “You Fell. You came with me to a whore house. You almost fucked a prostitute. You’ve killed dozens of angels. You lied. You—.”

“Enough.” Castiel hissed and Dean was instantly silenced. “How dare you throw that back at me? I fell because of you! All of this, Dean, I have done because of you! I rebelled, I went against my Father’s Will, I _fell_ …and you dare accuse me of this? You should be grateful you have the love of God!”

“You are not God, Cas,” Dean repeated, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “All of those souls…you’re a fucking nuke! Your vessel can’t contain them. Put them back, please Cas, before you kill us all!”

“You’re just mad,” Castiel murmured, turning around. “You’re just mad because I won.”

“This isn’t a game, Castiel!” Dean shouted, grabbing Cas’s shoulder and yanking him around. “This is insane! You can’t keep doing this to us, Cas! Please, do this for me. You’re my best friend, Cas. I would die for you—I _have_ died for you. Please, Cas, you’re family.”

“So now I’m family?” Castiel smirked, pushing Dean away. “But when I asked you to trust me? What was I? The crazy Angel—.”

“You were working with Crowley, the fucking King of Hell!” Dean interrupted with a shout. “You fucking broke Sam’s wall! If anybody else, _anybody_ , did half the shit you did, they would be dead already. But here I am, begging you to come back to us, after all you have done.”

“I need to put things back to order,” Castiel said, but he didn’t sound so sure anymore. “The Angels, humanity, they both need someone to guide them. A father that won’t abandon them.”

“You can do that, Cas. As an Angel,” Dean murmured, holding Cas’ arm tightly, trying to convey his honestly. “You questioned God’s Will, Cas. And you _won_. You don’t need all those souls to guide Heaven. Please Cas, I’m begging you. Come back with me. Let’s shove those souls back to Purgatory. Raphael is dead, Lucifer and Michael are both trapped in the Cage, and Gabriel’s lost. You are the strongest Angel now. You can do this, with Sam and me right there next to you.”

“I can’t, Dean,” Castiel said, the words escaping him in a groan. “I can’t do this.”

“Do it for me, Cas,” Dean whispered, but his voice was still loud in his ears. Damn it, he didn’t want to lay himself bear in front of all these people, but Cas seemed oblivious to them. His eyes were scared, latched on to Dean’s as if it were the only thing keeping him sane, and Dean knew he had no other option. “Please Cas, do it for me. I know you can.”

“This isn’t fair,” Castiel murmured. “You know you’re my favorite, the only one I love. I love you, Dean.”

“I know,” Dean nodded, and hugged Cas tightly, burying his face in the Angel’s neck. “I love you, too, Cas.”

 

Red Johnson stood transfixed as God professed his love for the man. He couldn’t believe that this, this _criminal_ , was God’s favorite. Didn’t God hate homosexuals? His parent’s had taught him so, yet here was God, pressing a soft kiss to a man’s lips.

“Who the hell are you?”

Red blinked, surprised as the blond man took a step back from God, frowning.

“Do I know you?” the man asked, glancing at God curiously. He turned to look at the crowd, fidgeting nervously as his eyes roamed the amount of people watching him.

“My name is Castiel,” God spoke, eyes stuck on the blonde man.

“That’s quite a mouthful,” the guy grinned. “But hey, I’m actually looking for my brother. Have you seen him? He’s like a giant, long hair, kind of walks like a moose?”

“He is somewhere in the crowd,” God replied, tilting his head to the thousands of eyes watching him.

“Why is everyone staring at us?” the blonde whispered, leaning in to whisper confidently to God, unaware that his voice carried nonetheless. “Are you, like, famous?”

“No. I am nobody,” God spoke.

“Everybody is somebody,” the guy replied, clapping God in the shoulder. “My mom used to tell me that there was something special inside every person, just waiting to come out. She said that that something special was the key to Heaven, and that as long as you didn’t taint it, God would accept you. I always thought it was a load of crap, really. God and Angels and Heaven. Bull, right?”

“I am dying. Do you think I will go to Heaven?” God asked and Red—along with a million other people—gasped.

“You are?” the other man asked, aghast. “Dude, I’m sorry. How… I mean, what’s—“

“There is something inside of me, eating its way out,” God replied. “I will die, and it will die with me.”

“Cancer,” the man nodded in understanding . “I don’t believe in Heaven. But if one exists, I totally think you belong in it.”

“It was nice meeting you,” God said, shaking Dean’s hand again. “Have a good life, Dean Winchester.”

“Yeah, you too, Cas,” Dean smiled and waved goodbye. He walked back towards the crowd, frowning when everyone’s eyes followed him and he met with an even taller man with long hair.

“Sammy, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“Dean, I—.”

“I just met this guy, he was—Oh, I guess he left already. But he was really cool. I think he was like an actor or something, because everyone was staring. Poor guy is dying, though. Such a shame, right? Probably leaving a wife and kid behind.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame,” the taller man spoke. “We should go, Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey—I wonder how he knew my name.”

Red watched the two men leave, and when he turned back, God was gone.

 

God’s body was found three weeks later, ripped to pieces in an old warehouse, splashes of black goo everywhere.

Dean glanced at the newspaper, eyes roaming over the story and he recognize the name.

“Poor dude,” he muttered, feeling a stab of sadness that the man had died before his already shortened time.

“Hey, Dean, I brought lunch,” Sam said, opening the motel door.

“You brought pie?” Dean asked eagerly, newspaper forgotten.

He didn’t think of that strange man in the park ever again.


End file.
